All is fair in love and war
by leuska
Summary: They all fought at some point; together or against each other, some of them winning, some of them losing. They all had their means as well as tactics, but only few could succeed. Spoilers up to season 3 and posible more.:


How would he convince her this is not how he wished things to turn out

Title: All's fair in love and war

Author: lizparker6

Characters: Michael Scofield, Lincoln Burrows, Sara Tancredi, Paul Kellerman, David Apolskis, Alexander Mahone, Bradley Bellick, Fernando Sucre, Nika Volek, Gretchen Whateverhername

Pairing: Michael/Sara, but also other

Genre: General, Romance, Family

Lenght: approx. 3500 words

Summary: They all fought at some point; together or against each other, some of them winning, some of them losing. They all had their means as well as tactics, but only few could succeed.

_Written for the pb__hiatus fic challenge __no.3. The cliché used is very well known – everything is fair in love and war. Characters as well as seasons vary – up until the end of season 1 till wild speculations for season 4._

_It has not been betta-ed, but I tried to look through it very thoroughly. My poor betta is already crammed full with my work and I promised her not to ask more of her that soon, poor elle, she must have already regretted her offer to help me out. ;) _

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„I am getting my brother out of here. Tonight. And I need your help."

How would he convince her this is not how he wished things to turn out? How could he make her understand he never had this planned? It's too late anyway. And it does not matter in the end. He _did _involve her. And not apologies would change this fact or make in any easier to bear.

"Do you understand that I am _required _to report everything you're telling me?"

"Yes."

"Then why would you?"

He had a good reason. A good reason to risk _everything._ Including her. They were going to kill his brother. And she could do something about it. Not break the law, not steal anything, simply forget to lock the door when she left for home for the night. It was a little thing to do, wasn't it? Such a little thing that could save a man's life. That's what she always wanted anyway, was it not? Help people.

"Because you are the only one that can help. And because I know you want to be part of the solution." _Such a cheap shot, he didn't expect not even from himself._

But everything is allowed in love and war, right? And this _was_ war. Lincoln has been framed. But he would not be killed if Michael had anything to do about it. The world owed him. A shitty life from the beginning, the only thing that was left to him was his brother, and now they wanted to take that one from him too? No. This time, he wouldn't let them.

"Was it all an act?"

A dangerous territory that will require honestly. That's we he owes _her_.

"At first, yes. I needed to be here. But then, I _wanted_ to be here."

"Right."

"And it's killing me to know you are never going to believe that."

Truth. He had feelings for this woman, standing now with a clenched jaw and averted eyes in front of him. She had been nothing but good to him from the start, although she had no reason to be so. All the same, he was playing her from the beginning. But then, their relationship honestly changed. It was too late, however, to change the course of action then. He _couldn't_ change it even if he wanted to. Too much was at stake. His brother's life was at stake. And now, standing here, in front of her, he hated the fact he had to endanger her and her career for the mistakes he had done. But this was not about him. Not about _them_. This was about Lincoln and he deserved to live, no matter what cost. Maybe in another life, things could have been different. But this desperate time called for desperate measures. And he was willing to go that far and even beyond for the only person left in his life, for his brother.

XXX

Brad was pissed. He let that Scofield-whore trick him into this and now he was with bound hands behind his back sitting on the ground, his wrists already starting to hurt. Five million dollars. God, he could have five _million_ dollars if not for that cheap whore and her asshole of a _husband_ who though to be that great nobody could outsmart him. Brad was pissed and he wanted revenge. He wanted to hurt.

"You are as stupid as the prison doc, you know that?"

"Ignore him."

College-boy said it in a seemingly steady voice, however…_Was that anger or hesitancy in his voice? Or maybe regret?_ Brad was not stupid. He had no fancy college degree he could throw around and brag, but he was always good at reading people. That was what made him a good 'track dog'. And right now, he saw that doctor 'Cold-shoulder' wasn't as forgotten as this little fancy piece of shit wished her to be. Brad saw very well how he always looked at Sara Tancredi, whenever he had the opportunity to. Every con looked at her that way of course, but Scofield always though to be something special, didn't he? Like he might stand a chance, giving the doc that look of puppy eyes and pitiful appearance, something Brad knew all too well himself to have done several years ago. The only difference was that stupid bimbo turned _him_ down but drooled all over _this_ stinking shit. _Sara never knew better_. _That's how they met in the first place, right?_

But right now, there was something more interesting on Brad's mind. That little glint of weary in Scofield's eye brought him onto something.

"He coned her too. Made her think he loved her and look what she's got. An overdose and a shot at 30 years inside."

The look at College-boy's face was priceless and worth every penny of those five million, Brad would thanks to this little fucker probably not get his hands on anymore.

"What are you talking about?" The frightened and incredulous edge of Scofield's voice was enough for Brad to know this little pisser had no idea what mess he left behind, and no matter how hard he tried to mask it, he was obviously shaken deeply even at the very possibility of what Brad told him might actually be true. At this moment, Brad could not be happier and more thankful for his watchful eye. This way, he could relish every little detail of his vengeance.

"You haven't been reading the papers, have you, College boy?" The look on Michael's face gave him all the answers to the questions he didn't give. Brad took one final breath before he would blow the bomb. "Cops found your _girlfriend_, fish-belly-white, gargling in her own puke."

_h__it_

"Shut up." Scofield's voice was so quiet, it almost gave Brad strength.

One look at Michael's face was enough for Brad to charm a mocking grin that spread with every painful twitch of muscle in Michael's jaw. Brad finally understood how a happy hog must feel while wallowing in hot mud. Priceless. Still, it was not enough. This shithead cost him five million dollars! _Outsmarted_ him. And Brad was not yet finished with him. He would push until the very end.

"But what do you care…unless she left the door open for ya…"

"Shut UP!"

Brad only sneered. "Hit a sore spot there, didn't I?"

That was the last thing Brad said or saw before everything went black. Later, he would lick his wounds and comfort himself in the thought he managed to hurt that little son of a bitch in the most cruel of ways. He might not get his five million now, but Scofield's consciousness would not get its peace either. All is fair in love and war.

XXX

She never considered herself stupid. Once naive, yes, but never stupid. Now, she could finally prove it as well as finish her string of stupidity once and for all. She had had enough. Fear, risk, abuse. She wanted a clean start, without crime marking her way.

"I loved you Michael, but you just used me!"

It was the truth. She really loved him. And she believed he loved her back. Why else would she go this lengths for him? Why else would she risk deportation or even death? But all the way, he had been playing her. Dreaming about that stupid prison doc. She sacrificed so much _more _for him; they even could have killed her. And yet, the first thing he hears about that red-headed belle back in Chicago, he picks up his phone and calls her. No matter if he gets him, his brother, or _her _in danger, he only has regards and thoughts for her. Thoughts as well as a place in his heart.

Now she can make things right. She might not have the love of this man, but she might have his money. More accurately, money _for _him. 100 000 dollars; clean, official money. No turning back. It is only fair, she deserves to be happy. Deserves to start a new life. He lied to her, she lies to him. That's how the world works.

Five minutes later, she is standing an the edge of the road, a cloud of dust marking the place where his car disappears in the horizon. She doesn't have him _nor_ the money. _Fuck!_ But she will live through it. She always does.

XXX

He stands on the doorsteps of a house he never saw before. Two dozens of FBI agents hiding in their cars and even bushes a few feet behind him, it feels so bizarre. He is lucky; it's her who opens the door.

"Scott…"

"Listen, I didn't got much my time, alright? I had to tell you something. What you did for me that day in the motel, nobody in my life has done anything like that for me. And I lied to you, alright? My name isn't Scott. My name is David. David Apolskis. And I just…I wanted you to know. Alright? I will be writing to you. I sure as hell hope you will write back."

Then they tear him away, cuff him and put him into the car. He feels proud, for this feels like the first right thing he had done in quite some time. He did not betray Michael Scofield's trust. He owed him and he repaid his debt. He lied to a federal agent, but who cares? He is a con, he shouldn't be trusted in the first place, right? And it's not like he wouldn't get a life sentence anyway. What matters most is he got a chance to see her again; tell her the truth. Maybe she would become his pen-pal and later maybe girlfriend. A man is allowed to dream, right?

Little does he know the sentence he told her was the last one he ever said to anyone except an exceptionally pissed FBI agent. Three hours later, he is lying dead at the exact spot where Oscar Shales once died.

XXX

She is his girl! His _querida_, his angel, and he simply can't leave his own cousin marry her and raise his child. He is _pappi_ and she is _mommy,_ simple as that. Hector is an asshole, he used her and tricked her into marrying him. Maricruz was only scared he would not be there, but he would now, right? He would be with her, he would raise their child, he would teach little Fernandito to ride on lama's and they would be happy. Together.

As he speeds the motorbike towards Vegas, another thought crosses his mind. Does he even have the right to burst into a wedding like this and destroy the day every woman dreams of, just like that? _Hell, yeah!_ He has apparently been around Michael for too long now; to even consider something like that. It's his family on stake, after all. And Michael even gave his blessing too.

He steps onto the gas pedal harder, yet is cautious not to exceed the maximum allowed speed. He must not be caught before he gets the chance to thwart that damned wedding.

_Maricruz baby wait, __pappi is coming home._

XXX

He puts the protective gloves on and heats the iron to a maximum degree, not that it would matter much. There will be enough electricity either way. Her eyes widen at that sight; she obviously has no clue what he is going to do with the iron in the first place. Burn her?

He decides it will be easier to take her by surprise. He seizes her neck and before she has any chance to react pushes her head under the surface. At the same time, he plunges the iron into the water and feels her whole body contract in immense pain.

He doesn't enjoy what he is doing. He never has. It's a dirty job that needs to be done and if the woman now coughing and spitting had a little brain left, she would have told him what he wanted to know a long time ago. She could have put a stop to this but she didn't; always so damn proud and stubborn. Doing it for what? Who? A con who sticks head over heels in his own shit and does not give a damn about her? He honestly doesn't understand this devotion for a man she only met once outside of prison. How could _anybody_ earn this level of loyalty? Or was it her father? Her pride? It didn't matter in the end, did it? _She brought this onto herself._

However, it takes him a moment longer to do the necessary. He actually wavers; the question of why _he_ is doing this involuntarily jumping to his mind.

For the love of the country, of course. And Carolyn. She made a mistake and he was the one who has to make things right again. He is a fire-extinguisher; of sorts. A loyal servant of his country. Of his president.

The only reason he hesitates is because he knows this woman. Personally. Maybe not too long, but long enough to let this thing be too personal for both of them. This can't happen anymore, it interferes with his work. With that, he finally releases the grip and Sara Tancredi's knotted body falls helplessly into the full bathtub.

XXX

"I am on my way up. Love you."

She is clutching the phone to her ear and knows she does not have time to mourn the loss of something she never had. She made her choice, she lied in order to save him; but all the same, set him free. She knows her betrayal will sting, but she hopes he will understand the sentiment behind it.

She does it out of love, and as they all say, it is fair to do just about everything for love. But even as this knowledge sinks in, it does not mend the enormous lonely hole that's suddenly left in her heart.

XXX

He is nervous, but not about if he is doing the right thing. Because he simply _is_. Everybody has to look after his own interests and these brothers already cost him too much. His reputation, his career, his family…well, maybe not the last, but they definitely didn't make things easier for him. Especially the younger of the two, Michael. God, they were even of first names together now, what would come next? Well, not much he guessed. He killed their father, for starters. And he held captive Scofield's girlfriend and therefore caused her to miss the ship, a piece of information he didn't necessarily want to share with Scofield right now. He knew the lengths this men would go for his loved ones, he witnessed that on a number of occasions, thank you very much. He would spare that information for later, however. You never know when it will come useful.

He dials 911.

"Here we go. Hello, holla! Do you speak English? Yes, yes. Mira Flora Docks. Yes. There's been a murder. A well dressed Asian man has just been shot by two Americans! Come, yes, come!"

"So you kill him and frame us? Why?"

_Shut up__, Michael. Why? You have no idea what I lost pursuing your stupid ass all over America._

He had a shot with Pam now. An actual chance for them and Cam to be a family again. With a boat and money and away from FBI or the Company and damned agents like Bill Kim or otherwise. He knew it would be hard to understand for Pam at first, but he had to do what was necessary to protect his family. They've hurt Cam already once. They almost killed his little boy. Everything for this stupid duo of siblings. He would never let that happen again. What did he care if they lived or died? The Company would kill them sooner or later either way. He was only ensuring it were sooner rather than later. Everything was so fucked up right now. But it would get better. Once Cam and Pam were there with him sailing away, they would be ok. Two dead brothers nobody cared about wouldn't bother him. He had done worse. _All is fair in love and war, that's how that saying goes, right? Right. Everything would be right._

XXX

Such tasks were most of the time boring. Kidnap the victim, hold them hostage, ensure the relatives don't make any stupid moves, get what you want and get out. Simple as that. She has done in a million times before. Until that little bitch and brat came along. For a Governors daughter, she was pretty insolent. She talked back a lot, but Gretchen later found out she was easily silenced when threatened she hurt the kid if she didn't shut up. It was ridiculous; the two of them. They didn't even know each other before and _she_ was already playing a nice auntie? Disgusting. But effective to shut her up, for sure.

The day had come. The brothers screwed up and somebody had to pay. Gretchen was however not that stupid to throw all her aces out of the window that easily and that quickly. She ordered her henchmen to move that cheeky bitch to another location and scared the kid with some bound eyes and nasty noises. It always worked so perfectly it was getting boring.

Now the fun part started; at last. She waited a couple of hours before she got the call. Lincoln was scared to death and almost whimpered like a little child into the phone pleading her not to hurt his son and blah blah.

Gretchen loved her job, but this part was the most annoying one. The relatives threatened, cried, begged and threatened anew, until they finally gave in and did what was asked and Gretchen never really understood why it was necessary to endure all those previous sharades in the first place. However, she would love to see the look and Scofield's face when his brother delivered the happy news. Gretchen smiled. Who was she kidding, she _loved_ her job.

Although not in war zone anymore, Gretchen still felt like in the midst of a battle. Working for the Company felt like still at war of sorts and it required tactics. She loved tactics. The brothers thought one of the hostages to be dead. They would do their part without any problems from now on, although that bitch was still alive. She wished she was allowed to kill her in the first place; this complicated things more for her.

Anyway, for now, things were right. She was at war and she was wining. Dirty bombs and tricks all allowed; no, this was even _better_ than war. No stupid Geneva rules, simple as Darwin – the stronger would win. And she loved it.

XXX

Lincoln was standing at the fence, waiting for his brother. He made up his mind. He would not tell Michael the truth. He needed him going, he needed his brother to focus in order to save his son. Lincoln knew that under any other circumstances, he wouldn't need to be concerned for his brother to do just that. But things were different now. Lincoln fully understood since the time Michael 'lost' Sara in Chicago, to Panama finally traveling just the two of them. Lincoln almost didn't recognize his brother then. He was obsessively consumed with the though of Sara's current whereabouts, not able to direct his mind to other things properly. While they were allowed their guard to lessen then, there was no time or space now. His son's _life_ was at stake. And no matter how hard it felt for Lincoln to lie to Michael, especially about something as sacred as this, he would do it without blinking an eye. His son was too much to lose. He knew Michael would be angry at him later. He also knew that by doing this, he might endanger their relationship, destroy Michael's trust in him once and for all. But at this particular moment, he didn't care. He couldn't allow himself the luxury to care. He had to choose. Michael or his son. With a heavy heart, he chose his son.

XXX

He is driving in his car, the rose and gun laying at his side; the rose peacefully, the gun in violent anticipation for revenge. All of this started as war. Along the way, it became war _and_ love. Now only war remained. While he had still kept some self-restraint before, he doesn't now. For what? For who?

They started this dirty fight and he would finish it; equally dirty if necessary. There was no one to hold himself for, keep his soul for. His brother and nephew safe and happy, he won't care for anything else. Returning home with them was still not an option. To leave and let those _people,_ if they were even allowed to be called that way, unpunished, walking away from their unforgivable crimes just like that, that was simply unthinkable.

_All__ is fair in love and war._ They took her life as well as his love, leaving only war. Everything was allowed on the war field and they've set the rules. God knew they would deeply regret it.

XXX

He still can't believe it. He is actually holding her in his arms, whole, breathing, and relatively unharmed. He is squeezing her desperately, vowing never to let go. He knows he must be hurting her hugging her like that, squeezing all the oxygen out of her lungs, but he can't help, he is clutching to her with his life. If she minds she doesn't let it on, she merely intensifies her own hug, letting his tears to wet her shirt. She knows she is the weaker part of the two of them; and watching his reaction she can't help but feel a selfish relief she is not the one having lived with the devastating information of the other being dead.

He can't keep standing anymore, his weight dragging them both down landing in a heap on the dirty floor, but neither of them minds. Their surroundings don't matter, their clothes don't matter, their appearances don't matter. Only _they_ matter.

_All__ is fair in love and war. It started in war yet ended in love. _And Sara can't help but think that however it started or continued, it all doesn't matter anymore. War ended, long live the love.

8


End file.
